Homecoming
by SoulsinAshes
Summary: After making honor band, Lovino Vargas realizes homecoming is just around the corner. And there is no way he's going alone. Or, for that matter, with a certain stupid Spaniard he happens to know. Fluffy Spamano, rated for Lovi's mouth.


**Homecoming**

A/N: This, in my head, started out as more of an honor-band-centric sort of fic, seeing as it was my original intention. It eventually became more focused on homecoming instead. *shrugs*

I probably messed up the homecoming court horribly; don't shoot me!

_**hetalia**_

"Elizabeta Héderváry."

Claps resounded through the band room as the bassoon player walked up to the front of the room, receiving a red folder, and sitting down.

"Tylan Terast."

Of course the first-chair trumpeter makes it. What about second chair, though?

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

The Spaniard happily jumped up to claim his bronze-colored folder. _Yep. There it was._

Another three claimed their folders: a Krastel, a DuLent, and a Williams. Two trumpeters and a French Horn player.

"Lovino Vargas."

My eyes went wide as Mr. Anton called my name. _I made NCIBA? I don't even remember signing up!_ Regardless, I walked up and got my folder, which was the same bronze Antonio's was. I sat down next to Trest, the second-chair trombonist. I glanced at him, muttering: "How the hell did I make NCIBA?"

The bespectacled ginger boy looked at me with a confused expression. "You signed up and the committee picked you. Duh."

"That's what I don't get!" I hissed. "I don't even remember signing up!"

"Well, whatever. You're in it now. There's nothing you can do about it."

"Dammit!"

Trest just shook his head before looking forward at Mr. Anton, waiting for instruction. I sighed and did the same.

_**hetalia**_

Antonio came up to me as soon as band practice was done. "Congratulations, Lovi!" he exclaimed in that stupid (though undeniably attractive) Spanish accent of his.

Of course, his entire damn posse came up and did the same. I congratulated those that made it (well, the ones I gave a damn about), including the two percussionists that made it: Ash Larisa and Alfred Jones.

"Dang!" the former shouted, stomping her foot to the ground and pouting. "How come all my friends are in Fritz? I'm in Monson!"

"At least I'm in Monson with ya," Alfred remarked comfortingly.

Ash sighed. "True. Well, congratulations, everyone! We all made it!"

"Woo-hoo!" Launa (you know, DuLent: the fourth trumpeter that made it) exclaimed, giving everyone a hug, including me, which was certainly not expected, but welcome… I guess. Damn blonde.

"Well, I guess I'm in the same position as you, Lovino," Tarell said sheepishly. He was one of our two tuba players that made it. (The other being a Berwald Oxenstierna.) "I don't remember signing up, though I guess Marcos did for me."

"You told me to!" the mentioned Guatemalan accused.

"I know, I know."

I sighed. _I'm surrounded by idiots._

"You know you love us," Ash drawled. "Not as much as a certain- mmph!" She was quickly shut up by my hand slamming against her mouth.

"Shut up!" I commanded. "I do _not_ love him!"

The stupid brunette just smiled knowingly. _Bitch._ Though she did have a point. Despite getting on my nerves _constantly,_ the brown-eyed genius was one of my best friends. She just… I don't know. It was weird, but we got along. …Relatively. Therefore, it made sense that she'd assume my feelings about the perpetually-happy Spaniard who was second-chair trumpeter.

Oh, yeah. She thought I had a crush on _him._ Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. And as much as I hated to admit it, the girl was damn perceptive. And right. And it _pissed me off!_ But maybe she could help me out. She _was_ friends with the tomato bastard. They had the same lunch period and everything.

But I'll be damned if I ever admit I need help about _love_ or whatever the hell it's called nowadays.

She removed my hand from her mouth, and, taking advantage of my stupor (the bitch), she mumbled in my ear, "Forget your stupid pride. I'll help you out with getting you two together."

Mouth agape, I stared at her. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "Seeing as we're friends and all, no matter how much I annoy you sometimes."

"Damn straight."

"Let's get going, before your bus leaves."

I glanced at the clock. 3PM.

Needless to say, I power-walked my ass out of there. No way in hell was I walking home. (Of course, Ash would've given me a ride, but you know me and my pride.)

_**hetalia**_

…Damn Feliciano. Was he doing this on _purpose,_ the bastard? And, of course, Ash wasn't helping, either. Not at all.

_Fratello_ had a band lesson first period, where I was working with him and the tomato bastard in science. Fourth period math bore a seat change that sat me next to the Spaniard.

Which, you know, wasn't terrible (a band lesson is a band lesson, after all, and they can't really control the actions of the teacher), but when you mess with my valve oil, that's where I draw the damn line.

Oh, yeah. I had opened my trombone case to find my valve oil missing. And the tomato bastard, being himself, offered to share his.

Damn artists.

Yep. I took up his offer, but don't get the wrong idea! Only because I had to, got it?

And you're wondering: he's seriously the only one who had valve oil?

Note that it _was_ a day where the volleyball, cross country, _and_ football players left early for games. Trest, being the useless idiot he is, didn't have any. Tylan didn't have any, either; he'd left his trumpet at home. (On accident, he claims. Accident, my ass. …Hold on a moment. Did Feliciano and Ash seriously get him with their plan? God _damn!_) All the other brass players were too far away to conveniently share valve oil with.

Fucking hell.

Mind you, I never asked politely for the valve oil. Because the damn idiot doesn't _need_ to be asked politely. I just nudged his shoulder with my trombone or something and mumbled "pass the damn valve oil" or something like that.

So band ended with jazz band being announced to start Wednesday morning at 7:30. And I was _excited._ Because it was an extracurricular thing tomato bastard wasn't in.

…Or so I thought.

Fucking _hell!_ Was there something he _wasn't_ in?

…I shouldn't talk like that, lest it becomes true. But it's true anyways. Any school extracurric I'm in, he's in. What is he, a damn psychic?

No. He's just got connections.

Damn brother. Damn bitch of a best friend.

Speak of the devil. "So, has Antonio asked you to homecoming yet?"

Bitch. Bitchbitchbitch. "No. What makes you think I'm going?"

"'Cause you like him."

"So?"

"So, go with him! Ask him to the dance with you!"

"I'm not going to any fucking dance with the tomato bastard!"

"Why not? You're crazy about him; quit denying it!"

"I'm not denying it! He just wouldn't like me back!"

Ash just burst out laughing.

"What's so damn funny?"

"You're so freaking oblivious! Of course he likes you back!"

"Wait, he told you?"

"He didn't need to. His actions are proof enough."

"Bitch. Quit making stuff up!"

She looked offended. "I'm not!"

"Of course you are! No one would _like_ me!"

"Say that to Antonio," she mumbled.

"I'm not in the mood for this. Just shut the fuck up."

The chocolate-haired sophomore sighed. With a gentler tone, she mumbled, "Please ask him. You're always so happy with him. And, you know, you're like a brother to me. So, naturally, it makes me happy to see you happy."

I stared at her in amazement, then sighed myself. "He'll turn me down."

"You never know 'till you try."

"Okay, fine. I'll _try._ But no promises."

She smiled. "Close enough."

_**hetalia**_

There he was. We were just released from band the Monday before homecoming and shitIwasnotreadyforthis.

Encouragingly (at least I hoped that was his intent), Feliciano lightly pushed me towards the object of my affection.

I breathed deeply and tapped his shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Heracles Karpusi, a French horn player. (second chair to Matthew Williams, yeah, the one that made NCIBA)

He turned to me with a sunny smile. "Lovino! How nice to see you!"

I coughed awkwardly. "Yeah. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing, Lovi. What is it?"

"Can I… you… ?"

Antonio stared at me in confusion, probably piecing apart my blur of words, when a wide, goofy grin spread across his face. "Ahaha, Lovi! I thought you'd never ask! Of course I'll come to the homecoming dance with you!" he sang.

"Not so loud, bastard," I mumbled.

He kind of ignored me and hugged me close to him.

"Fucking Spaniard… why the hell did I fall in love with you? Remind me, please," I groaned into his chest.

He chuckled, having heard. "Gladly." He put his finger under my chin, gently lifting my face up to gaze into his emerald eyes…

"You know, there's kind of a school policy on PDA and a teacher nearby."

Shit.

"Who asked you, bitch?" I snapped.

"I know you were having a moment and all, but keeping you two out of trouble. You wouldn't want to miss the homecoming dance now that you have your dream date going with you, now would you?" the percussionist drawled.

"What about you and Arthur? You haven't asked him yet, have you?"

She stuck her tongue out. "For your information, I'm waiting for _him_ to ask _me._"

"Woman up, show some balls, and ask him yourself, bitch!"

"I will if you two share your first kiss at homecoming and I'm guaranteed a picture."

"Deal." As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted the two to get together. To be honest, it was for a lot of the same reasons she wanted Antonio and I to get together. She may be a bitch at times, but she's like a sister to me.

"You'll miss your bus if you and Antonio hang around here much longer…"

Have I mentioned that I'm a master at power-walking by now?

_**hetalia**_

Friday. Finally. About damn time.

I knocked on his door with sweaty palms and a pounding heart. I was dressed in a black button-down with white slacks and a white tie.

He opened the door with his stunning white smile. "Hey Lovi!" he sang. He was dressed as I was, just having inversed the colors. You know, he wore a white button-down instead of my black one. "Come inside. I've got a couple of things to take care of before we leave to meet Ash and Arthur, okay?"

I nodded, following him inside and closing the door behind me.

"Say, Lovi."

"Hmm?"

"When did you start to love me?"

Shit. Shitshitshit. "Um… since… since we first met, I guess. No matter how cheesy that sounds. …Bastard." I crossed my arms in defiance. Shit, I sounded like such a damn _sap!_ Only Antonio could make me feel this way. The bastard.

Said bastard chuckled in that annoyingly hot way of his. "I'm glad. I feel the same way about my little tomato."

I flushed as red as the pet name. "I'm not a damn tomato! And certainly not _your_ tomato!"

Antonio just smiled. "You're so cute when you're angry."

"Shut the hell up!"

The Spaniard just wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace. "Aww, but if I do, then you'll stop blushing!" he whined.

I groaned. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that. Like, ever." Nonetheless, I returned his embrace. "Bastard. Only you can make me feel like this."

"Good," Antonio purred, burying his face in my hair. "'Cause you're mine now, all mine," he sighed possessively as he ran his fingers down my back.

For the record, I only shivered because it was cold. No way was I looking forward to anything _intimate_ with this idiot. "You'd better not look at anyone else anymore, bastard. Don't you even _think_ about loving anyone but me."

"Ah, that's all you're worried about?" the trumpeter hummed. He kissed the top of my head with those perfectly plump, pink lips of his. Damn them. "Not a thing to worry about then, _princesa._ I only have eyes for you."

"Did you just call me a damn princess?" I demanded angrily. "You're more of a girl than I am!"

"Ah, but see, I am the prince, Lovi! And there's always a prince and a princess, right? Never two princes."

"Who gives a shit? I'm not a fucking princess, and that's final!"

"Hmm-hmm…" Antonio hummed contently. "Very well, _mi príncipe._ Well, should we head to the ball with the princess and her prince?"

"Let's just go meet them, bastard." I'd never admit it (at least to him), but I was pleased with his terms of endearment. I'd also never say I was blushing at the _"príncipe."_ Because I wasn't. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I'm serious!

_**hetalia**_

Why does it not surprise me that the two class geniuses got together?

Antonio and I had arrived at homecoming, hand-in-hand, Ash and Arthur leading us.

We had walked in to a free dance to "Raise Your Glass." Yeah.

…Damn pop music.

When the song had ended, Ash and Arthur went up on stage and each grabbed their own microphone. _Oh, great. Here comes the announcement of the damn homecoming royalty or whatever the fuck they call it._

Surprisingly or not, Ash was student council president and Arthur her vice president. Therefore, is it a coincidence they got together? Hell no. Those two had it coming for a long time now.

Ash's violet dress flowed behind her as she moved around onstage. "Hello, Mason High student body!" she sang. "Now, Arthur and I are here to make some very important announcements: homecoming royal court!"

A murmur burst through the crowd in excitement.

"First, we have the freshman attendants!" she exclaimed. "Now, the results are just as much of a surprise to us as they are to you, so let's find out together." She slowly opened the envelope.

I tuned everything out, only noticing a freshman boy and a freshman girl head up onstage. A sophomore pair, a junior pair, and a senior pair did the same. Like I cared. The sophomore pair wasn't anyone I was friends with, so I didn't bother.

"And now for your homecoming royalty!" the brunette proclaimed. "The homecoming king is… Toris Laurinaitis!"

The Lithuanian strode upstage and was promptly crowned. I had to smile and clap. The boy deserved it. (And, to be honest, I _was_ friends with him.) Though everyone knew his date wasn't… standard.

Arthur smiled. "And your homecoming queen is…" he opened the envelope and promptly burst into laughter, "Ahaha! Sorry, but that was a surprise to see! A welcome surprise, that's for sure, but a surprise all the same. Your homecoming queen is none other than Feliks Łukasiewicz!"

The Polish sophomore was thoroughly shocked. From the stage, Toris gave his boyfriend a reassuring smile, which comforted the Pole. He headed onstage, his army-green gown fluttering behind him.

…It was moments like this one that reminded me just how accepting this school can be.

_**hetalia**_

The entire school had smiled at the homecoming royalty and how happy the two obviously were. The dance floor had instantly been cleared for the two. Though currently, the cafeteria speakers were blasting "World is Mine" as Ash and Arthur were in each other's arms, dancing.

Antonio had gotten me to dance with him, too. The bastard.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lovi?" asked the brunette trumpeter.

Throwing aside any pride the idiot in me was still clinging to, I replied with, "Yeah. I am."

And I smiled. I smiled, damn it!

Antonio's smile grew larger and gentler as he held me tighter. "I'm glad." He leant in closer to me agonizingly slowly and ohgodwhatthefuckdoIdo?

As Miku hit the last note of her song, Antonio's lips hit mine.

… I was kissing him back. Thank God.

Ash's yaoi senses had activated without a doubt, I'm sure. She was probably getting pictures right now.

Bitch.

She'd better send me some after this.

The entire school was probably staring at me as I pulled away. To be honest, I didn't notice. I was too busy staring into those impossibly deep pools of green that called themselves Antonio's eyes and catching my breath.

My heart was pounding. My head spun. And my damn knees gave out under me, only giving the Spaniard more reason to pull me flush against him.

And I'm sorry, but Antonio's smile is fucking _beautiful._ It makes me feel all warm and secure and I fucking sound like a girl right now don't I.

Hey, I might be gay, but I'm still a guy.

Still, I mean it. I love Antonio's smile.

…Fuckhe'skissingmeagainshitshitshit.

_**hetalia**_

Fratello = brother

Princesa = princess

Mi príncipe = my prince

A/N: If I get enough requests to continue this, I will. With honor band and everything.

R&R, please!


End file.
